June 21st
by Felicity G. Silvers
Summary: Steve keeps a datebook for every year since he's joined the Avengers; they are full of dates and how many died that day, and who caused it. Loki's name is rarely there, except for every year on the same day, and always one more than the year before. He doesn't know how he missed it, really. Part 1 of Per Aspera Ad Astra.


This is in response to the norsekink prompt (that I don't have the link to because it's ancient) about Loki causing trouble on his birthday; I don't know the exact prompt, but there were three separate responses dealing with Loki/Steve I really liked. All of them dealt with Loki's side.

So I looked at Steve's.

I hope you all enjoy this. There's no slash here, just the beginnings of a beginning of a relationship at best. After writing this I've been very tempted to return to this 'verse and these two, and see where they go.

Part 1 of_ Per Aspera Ad Astra_

A/N on Aug 6th-fixed dates because durh. ._. Thanks again to the keen-eyed Barbara who spotted it.

A/N added August 8th, 2012: So, I'll admit it now. This is going to be a long running series of shorter fics that I can hopefully churn out faster than my long stuff that I generally focus on. Yes, I know the arc. Yes, I know the general premise of each story, and what each will entail. And I plan on each being as polished and lovely as this fic. I hope that you will, knowing that, be willing to stand the wait between each one, knowing they will each be their own situation that can mostly stand on their own. I had no intentions of this spawning something larger, but between your responses and this being my favourite Loki to write, well. Now we'll have something longer to journey through.

That said, please, be patient. I usually have this stuff planned and written and being edited waaaay before I post it, and so this one has me caught flat-footed.

Warnings: none

* * *

**June 21st**

It's the third year since Loki escaped from Asgard (and really, the third year since they even learned who Loki was, because he was barely in Asgard for three months before he slipped away and began to cause havoc on Earth again). There has been a lull in villainy, which they all put down to the heat (because even super villains hate the heat), but right now it is being broken. Thor's away, in Asgard for something to do with his father.

When they get the call, they all groan. The peace has been nice.

Loki sets the city ablaze in green fire and there are duplicates that are never the actual god. They spend the entire day chasing him and trying to stop the fires and cursing the heat. By sunset, everything has returned to some semblance of peace, other than the carnage left in the trickster's wake. They spend the next week looking for the god before other super villains decide to take their cue from Loki and begin to cause trouble again.

XXXXXX

Steve has a date book for each year since he joined the Avengers. They sit lined up his desk like little soldiers, bound in a soft and supple brown leather, the year glinting in gold font on the spine. Jarvis has offered before to create him an electronic one, but Steve prefers these. Once, Tony took one to see what he wrote in it, mocking Steve's preference for paper, and when he glanced at one of the pages handed it back immediately, face going dark. Tony did not mock him after that.

It is filled with things like _August 16th, Doom—2_ and _September 3rd, Amora—150 Skurg—27_.

After the city has finally mostly managed to right itself, and after his shower, he sits down at his desk and pulls out the one for this year. He finds the page for June 21st and with the sleek black pen he only uses for this he adds a note:

_Loki—563_.

XXXXXX

Even Thor has begun to view his brother as a natural disaster. It's one of the new Avengers (Peter Parker, and Steve thinks that he's a pretty sweet kid) who makes the connection first. They joke about when hurricane Loki will roll through town, though most the time it's the type of gallows humour that Steve doesn't much like. They don't really know a pattern to Loki's attacks, which makes sense; much of it seems the god is bored more than anything when he does show up. They can't predict if he'll show up at an important conference full of world leaders because (other than the Chitauri attack) he never shows any interest in taking over the world. Not like the other villains, who all seem to have something they are angling for, and whose death counts leave Loki's in the dust.

That's the other thing—Steve can look at a month where Loki does attack, and it's rare Loki has more than one or two dead. Injured, yes, there are always injured, and the property damage is through the roof. They have meetings sometimes, to try and see how they are doing on actually saving lives, and the numbers are always depressing; they all burn them into their minds, the 'this month x number of people died before we could stop them' and swear to try harder (and they do, but it's hard to keep people from dying in the crossfire. Even as more Avengers come on board, it feels like new super villains spring up to match).

June is the quiet month. June is always the month with the least (which is not saying much, when there are still 500 in a month where they are hardly attacked at all).

Steve chews on that sometimes, but usually he forgets by the time he's back in his room and could look through the years.

XXXXXX

None of them notice immediately, but when June starts they relax. It's been four years of June lulling into nothing; July makes up for it. Clint jokes that the bad guys are doing it in celebration of Steve's birthday, July 4th. Steve tells him not to joke about something like that, but then the others run with it and he can't help but smile a little.

This year, Tony is taking the time to go to Europe with Pepper, Bruce has gone to a conference to speak on third world aid, Thor is visiting with Jane and going to see Niagara Falls, and it's just Steve, Natasha, and Clint at the Tower. As the end of the month draws closer they gather back, nervous, waiting; none of them are ever quite sure when the peace is going to break.

When it happens, it's Loki. Tony is the only one who hasn't made it back yet, and his flight is actually on the way into town (or would be, if flights weren't being delayed thanks to the scarily large dragon that Loki is flying around on). Eventually, they bring the dragon down, but not before huge swathes of northern Manhattan have been destroyed. Loki grins at them widely, and it's the most honest smile that Steve has ever seen the trickster wear even though there's blood covering half his face and the god is barely able to stand. Then he vanishes.

They spend the rest of the day helping dig people out of the rubble. It takes a few days, but then the final count shows up.

Steve opens the date book to June 21st, adds his entry, and then stares at it for a few minutes. Something is niggling him as he writes it, but he can't put his finger on it.

_Loki—564_.

XXXXXX

It is June again. It is hot, hotter than Steve ever remembers the city being before. Tony is looking a bit more gray this year, though the man swears he isn't getting older, that he's perfectly fit. All of them are lounging around on the top balcony of the tower, drinking beers as the heat fades barely at all with the setting of the sun. Thor is arguing loudly with Clint over something while Natasha, Pepper, and Jane lounge in the shallow end of the pool, talking about a movie they had gone to see that weekend. Tony is grilling food, Peter is trying to convince the billionaire of something, and Bruce is applying aloe to his new sunburn next to Steve. Steve has a sketchbook out and is slowly filling in the city skyline on the paper.

All of them have a certain tension in their shoulders. It's been five years, and the knowledge that the peace is almost over has become subconscious. It's why they are all already returned from their vacations. It's June 15th.

"Do you think we'll get a green firestorm again this year?"

"What do you mean?" Steve asks, holding his pencil up to the skyline momentarily, not sure if he's managed to capture the curve of one of the buildings properly. Green firestorm is Loki—they are superstitious, not saying Loki's name unless they have to—but that's not what Steve is asking about.

"Well, he's the one who usually attacks us first."

Steve pauses and lowers his pencil.

"Is he?" He frowns.

"As far as I recall. I haven't really been keeping records on it."

Steve remembers how June is always the low month, and how Thor always seems a little more distant this month. He remembers how genuine Loki's smile was last year with the dragon despite being injured and exhausted. He has to be sure. He sets the sketchpad down and gets up—he's actually in a position to check for once. Bruce blinks at him, looking up from where he's applying aloe.

"I'll be back later," Steve tells him.

He starts with the date book from last year, and he looks through June until he comes to the first entry added.

_June 21, Loki—564_.

The year before that, with the firestorm. There was a girl who should have died—several people who should have died, but made miraculous recoveries and were fine, untouched by the fire and collapsing buildings, all of them scared and confused.

_June 21, Loki—563_.

And the year before that. That year the city had been coated in ice, and when it melted so much had flooded. One of the bridges ended up destroyed. People who should have died from frostbite and hypothermia had lived; people who should have drowned swearing that they could suddenly breathe water until they reached the surface.

_June 21, Loki—562._

He already knows what the second year will say, but he looks anyway.

_June 21, Loki—561._

The first year. The year that Loki brought the Chitauri in, the crazy gleam in his eyes and the way he twisted them against each other before Coulson died. Steve does not expect that to be exact, because the Chitauri were invading and there's no way that Loki could have kept it so precise with an invading army at his beck.

_June 21, Loki—560_.

He wonders how none of them managed to notice this.

Steve goes back up to the balcony. Clint is currently being held under the water by Pepper, having apparently decided to cannonball and splash the ladies; Natasha is looking fairly smug about it. Thor is leaned on the railing, laughing, but he notices when Steve approaches him. He grins.

"Steve, what can I do for you?"

"How old is your brother?"

Thor blinks at him, clearly confused by the question, but Steve is glad it doesn't stop him from answering.

"Well, I am not sure. I always forget his age, he has always acted much older than he is." Thor pauses and squints his eyes a little as he thinks it over. "I would say he is around 560 or so, perhaps closer to 570. We haven't celebrated his birthday in so long, and that was how I always knew how old he was." The thunder god looks apologetic. "May I ask why?"

"Just wondered. You guys look pretty young for being so old." Steve does not enjoy lying, and it isn't a lie, not really, when he gets Thor onto the topic of age and how it is measured on Asgard versus Earth. Thor is surprised to learn that Steve should really be an old man, that he will be turning 97 this year—Thor's gaze when he looks at Jane, laughing in the pool where Clint is sputtering and trying to get away from Pepper, is soft and distant now. Steve feels guilty over it but excuses himself and goes back inside.

XXXXXX

No one who would be paying attention to his bank account would think anything of Steve withdrawing as much as cash as he does. He's made it more than clear over the years that despite all the other things that he's gotten used to, he will always prefer the feel of cash to a debit card. It also means that no one will really know what he spends the money on, which is somewhat the point.

If Steve is right, there are 565 lives riding on this. He thinks he is, and that breathtakingly sincere and delighted smile (he looked at the footage from the other years, and Loki is _always_ smiling, always looks so brokenly _delighted _with a hint of something bitter and jagged beneath the surface of poison green eyes on the 21st; the rest of the year a mask of boredom and sarcastic glee) only makes him more willing to take a chance. He doesn't really know the god's story, though he heard Thor's side of what preceded Loki's arrival on Earth and Thor has admitted that some of the old tales are true. Steve's been around long enough and dealt with enough people that he thinks, maybe, that Loki is only acting on a grand scale because he doesn't know any other. Thor certainly did not, not for the first two or three years, and the thunder god still has some trouble with it sometimes.

It's stupid, but he wants to do this his way first. And if it doesn't work, well, he can make sure they know that Loki will attack the 21st and that will be that. He can say he tried.

June 17th. He hires Dr. Strange as a consultant because he knows Strange will absolutely not violate that trust and won't act on the information, and also because Strange is the best they have for a magic user not working for the other side. Strange only raises his eyebrows a little at the request, but says he will do what he can.

He speaks to the owner of a bakery that he likes, explaining that he needs a last minute birthday cake. Unlike Tony, he hates to use his fame to get anything, but the bakery has very little time to make yet another cake. Steve tells them he'll come in full Captain America gear, do autographs and pictures for the owner's birthday, whatever they want, so long as he can pick the cake up unnoticed on the 20th. The owner agrees, says she will make the cake herself, and he makes sure to write down to be there at eight sharp on the 19th for her birthday.

The rest of the afternoon, he goes through footage, because he is sure there was a time they surprised Loki—actually surprised, not the faux shock that they typically get. He is rewarded with a clip from three years ago, Loki in civilian clothing at a public garden, face frozen in surprise and quickly turning to burning anger. Steve can remember that afternoon; he, Tony, and Thor had been there for a lily festival, in full-garb for one of the children's events. It had been utterly surreal, lily petals and scent surrounding them as they fought. No one had died that day.

June 18th, he asks Pepper where a good place to buy lilies are. She tells him about a hothouse that she gets all the ones for events at, a small little private-owned thing out in Queens. When he gets there, he's greeted by a black haired young man wearing sunglasses inside even though he doesn't need them and who reminds Steve a bit of a snake. He's a bit rude, but as soon as Steve says he wants something rare and hard to find the man grins and shows him the most amazingly blue lilies Steve has ever seen. The edges of the petals are ruffled like paper curling from flame, the blue a particularly dusky hue and nearly purple in places; he's never seen anything like them. He writes his order down for the man, who assures him that his partner will make sure the arrangement is perfect.

On the 19th, he spends all morning at the bakery; the others tease him about it later but he just smiles and shrugs. He's feeling more nervous. Strange hasn't contacted him with any information and everything is going to go to waste if he can't even give Loki the gifts prior.

It's nearly midnight when he gets a call from Natasha. He drives over and picks Strange up from the airport to take him to SHIELD headquarters. After he leaves, there is an envelope in the passenger seat of the car. Inside is an address, located in Brooklyn. It's on a street Steve used to know, though he knows it will have changed by now.

The 20th is nothing but tight nervousness. He keeps waiting on someone to ask what he's doing, but no one does. Clint does ask if he's okay, if he needs someone to punch for a bit, he can get Thor, but Steve just chuckles and waves him away. He breaks his pencil when he tries to draw. What time should he go? Should he wait until tomorrow morning and hope to catch Loki before he leaves the address? Unable to focus—he actually loses a game of chess almost immediately to Bruce, who gives him a worried look over his glasses—he leaves and goes to the flower shop.

The black-haired man is gone, but there's a soft, slightly plump blond man there, who has a soft British accent and wears a pair of glasses. He is much nicer, apologizes if the other offended him in anyway, and then is utterly delighted when he finds out Steve is the one who wanted the blue lily bouquet. Steve insists on paying—"Are you sure? You know, you kept Crowley from getting hurt, I've never forgotten that, well, if you insist"—and covers them lightly in the car so people peering in won't see them.

At the bakery, he goes in through the back, and the owner hands him a box with the cake in it—a double layer thing that is not very tall at all. He had told her that he didn't really know the tastes of the recipient, but that the guy was a real trickster, smooth, and cynical. Dark chocolate cake with a thin raspberry sauce between the two layers covered in a semi-sweet ganache apparently equals all of that. Some of the raspberry sauce had been carefully reduced to a thin icing and piped on the top of the cake in a writing far more elegant than Steve thinks should be possible.

He picks up a bottle of a merlot that he likes, slightly sweet and hints of fruit in it; he's had it with chocolate cake before so he thinks it will go nicely with this one. He puts everything in a paper bag so he can carry it around more easily, then heads back to the tower.

He waits until after dinner, changes three times, and finally settles on jeans and a nice pale blue button up short-sleeved shirt. He checks the bouquet before he leaves his room to make sure that it hasn't wilted (it hadn't, but it doesn't hurt to make sure), then leaves. The others are watching a movie; they ask if he wants to join, but he tells them he has plans and ducks out before any of them think to ask him about them.

It makes him a little nervous, but he leaves the cell phone in his room. It will, he hopes, make him seem less threatening if he can't call for help. Also keep Tony and SHIELD from getting curious and following him.

The street, when he gets there, is different than he remembered but not as different as he expects. He even manages to find parking relatively close to the address; it's an apartment building, old and brick and shorter than the other remodeled ones around it. Steve isn't sure why he expected anything else, Loki clearly has to stay somewhere between his attacks. Feeling less and less sure, he takes the stairs so he can hopefully tire himself out some.

It just gives him more time to think.

The apartment is on the top floor, tucked into a corner. Steve stares at the numbers on the door, then at the paper Strange gave him, and debates leaving. He reminds himself that he has no way to explain the cake to the others, he's already managed to get this far, and there are 565 lives that he is almost certain will be lost if he doesn't try. There is no way that Steve can live with himself if he leaves now and tomorrow those people die.

Sometimes, being a hero isn't about punching things.

He knocks.

The door opens surprisingly quickly, the sort of door opening that suggests Loki is waiting on something. The god blinks at Steve, face entirely open for a second, and Steve can't help blinking back. Neither of them say anything for a moment.

"Hi," Steve says. It's awkward and forced, but it breaks the silence and makes this a little easier. It gets the surprise off Loki's face. "I, uh, I brought you some things. May I come in?"

He holds the bag up a little, like the peace offering it is.

Loki is studying him, face otherwise unreadable. He's in a deep green bathrobe and looks absolutely terrible; too thin, dark circles under his eyes, skin sallow instead of ivory—like he has been up too many nights in a row and running himself ragged.

"I didn't bring my phone or anything. It's just me. The others don't even know where I'm at," Steve adds.

Loki just continues to study him. Next door, an older lady is leaving her apartment and glances over at them curiously.

"Is everything okay, Lucas?" she asks, clearly concerned.

"Fine, Ms. Gardner," Loki says, and steps back from the door, so Steve can come in. Steve tries not to pay attention as Ms. Gardner and he chat a little, and glances over the apartment. There's a small kitchen through one door, and another that leads to the bedroom; the living room has a sleek and thin black TV on an equally slim and glass entertainment stand, a violin case leaned against it. There are bookcases filled with every manner of book and a small black coffee table to match the black leather sofa. The TV is on, playing some old film Steve realizes is _The Maltese Falcon_(the good one, with Boggart), a pile of pillows that Loki had clearly been curled up against and a green quilt on the couch. Loki makes a noise as he shuts the door, and Steve turns to look at him. He has his arms crossed over his chest, eyes studying Steve and clearly trying to figure out what on earth Captain America is doing here.

"I don't have to stay," Steve says quickly. "I can go."

Loki licks his lips, goes to say something, and stops. Steve has never seen Loki at a loss for words before, even after the time the god was flung through a building. Literally. That sharp jaggedness that he had caught glimpses of in video is lurking in tired green eyes.

Someone knocks on the door; Loki makes two gestures—one towards his shoes and a shoe rack, the other towards the couch. Steve takes his shoes off then sits on the couch, sets the bag between his knees, glances over to where Loki is. It has never occurred to him that Loki would order take out or be nice to his elderly neighbor or insist people take their shoes off before coming inside; it's a little chilling, considering that tomorrow he might go out and kill hundreds of people. The god disappears into the kitchen after that, the rattle and soft noises of dishes being pulled out and drawers opened and closed. He comes back with two bowls, both filled with what smells like peanut noodles, one with a fork and the other with chopsticks. He hands Steve the one with a fork, sits down on the couch, pulls his legs up, and starts the movie from the beginning again.

They don't talk. Loki hardly seems inclined to, and Steve doesn't know what else he can say. Steve has seen _The Maltese Falcon_before, and he liked it then; he likes it now, as well, even though he occasionally glances out of the corner of his eye to where Loki is. Once Loki finishes eating, he sets the bowl on the coffee table, slips back under the blanket, and seems to melt into the couch, a curled up bundle, eyes half-open as he watches the movie. Steve almost wonders where the trust is coming from, but then realizes he's eating Loki's food, and rules of hospitality mean that, for now, their differences are settled, at least until Steve leaves. It's only polite, and Steve has always been polite.

It's only when the credits roll that Loki turns the TV off and looks over at him.

"Why are you here?"

Steve looks down awkwardly, rubs his hand through his hair. In the bag, he can see a bit of blue, so instead of answering right away he reaches in and pulls the bouquet out, offers it to Loki. One elegant black eyebrow arches and a sardonic smile flits to his lips.

"Lilies are your favourite, right?" It's a guess, based off the only time they had ever caught Loki unawares, but Steve has already committed himself to this whole thing anyway.

"…yes. They are." Whatever snark that was going to come with that smile did not. Loki's face has gone still again, that broken edge in his eyes returned. He takes the bouquet from Steve, holding it as if it were glass and might shatter, studying the flowers. One finger runs over a ruffled petal.

"And I really don't know what you drink, but I picked something I like. Well, that I like with something else, but I can't really explain until I'm at the last thing. So." Steve pulls out the bottle of merlot. Loki takes it as well, and if his fingers are trembling slightly, Steve does not comment on it. Steve lets him look at the label, rests his arms on his knees and watches.

"Are you attempting to court me, Rogers? I wasn't aware your interests went in that direction." It lacks a certain acid, though, which makes Steve smile a bit, hopefully. He's right. He has to be, but he'll know for sure in a second.

"No, I'm not. Though I guess it does look that way, doesn't it?" He reaches in and pulls out the cake, can feel Loki's eyes on him. Loki sets the bottle of wine carefully on the carpet, leaving the bouquet resting on his stomach. "I know I'm early, but I wasn't sure if I could catch you before you head out tomorrow." He meets Loki's stare and offers him the box.

Loki sits up and takes the box, resting it in his lap. He's got the slightest bit of a frown, and though Steve can't see the cake when he opens it, he can see Loki's expression, raw and bleeding, eyes shattered. The god presses a fist to his mouth, shoulders hunching inward as if he's been struck in the chest. A few tears slip down one cheek and he pulls in a deep, choked breath. Steve looks away then, gives him what privacy he can.

It feels like an age, but finally, finally, Loki speaks.

"This changes _nothing_."

The box is closed again, and Loki's hands are shaking slightly. He's glaring at Steve, eyes still damp.

"I know."

Loki looks down. Steve shifts to stand.

"Wait."

Steve pauses, half-tensed to move.

"I can't eat this by myself."

Steve can't help his smile. He takes the cake from Loki and goes to the kitchen. It's not very large, and he finds plates and forks. There are wine glasses hanging from one of those interesting racks, and he gets two. It takes a little juggling, but he manages to bring cake slices and glasses back with him. Loki takes one each of the plates and glasses, eying Steve.

"Pray tell, how do you expect to open the wine?"

Steve pulls out a swiss army knife and the bottle opener on it. Loki snorts, but still offers his glass all the same. As they eat the cake and drink wine, he catches Loki studying him a few times, but the god's eyes quickly flick away to other things when Steve meets his gaze.

After the cake, Steve gets up to leave, Loki to show him out. Steve slips his shoes on, and when he stands up after making sure the laces are tied he jumps, Loki much closer than he expected. He laughs a little. Loki's eyes are nearly even with his own, the god just barely taller than him, and while there's still a certain broken glass edge to them, they also look a little less lost.

"Happy birthday."

Loki nods, opening the door for him.

Steve almost gives Loki a speech about how he doesn't have to keep himself alone, that it's not _right_what Loki does but that if he wants it, Steve will make sure he gets a second chance. Now, though, isn't the time for that, and it might just push Loki away, spoil what has otherwise been a surprisingly pleasant evening. Well, no, it would; look at every time that Thor has done the same.

So he leaves, paper bag folded up and tucked under his arm.

"Rogers."

He stops and glances back over his shoulder, where Loki is standing outside his door. The god bites his lower lip, studying Steve; Steve waits.

"Thank you." And the flash of the most brilliant smile that Steve has ever seen; a smile not edged in mania and hurt but full of sincerity and gratitude. Steve smiles back.

"Any time, Loki. See you around." He waves a little. Loki nods and goes back into his apartment. Steve waits until he hears the door click shut before he lets a wide grin split his features, so wide it nearly hurts, heart near to bursting.

XXXXXX

June 21st.

The others, he can tell, can sense that something is meant to happen today. Steve is the only one who isn't up at the crack of dawn; he lets himself sleep in. He's earned it. When he wakes, there's another slice of cake by his bedside; he doesn't mention the security breach to anyone. Instead, he stays in his pajamas and goes to the living room, browses through Tony's movie collection until he finds something that looks semi-interesting, and eats his slice of cake. It's not the same without the wine or the company, but he's not complaining.

Clint ends up demanding that the news be put on halfway through his movie. Steve lets him, gets his sketchbook, and goes to the roof to finish his skyline. Natasha gives him a funny look, him still in his pajamas even though it's nearly noon, but he just smiles at her.

They don't get a call; there's apparently some massive failure with the subway stations, but nothing involving an attack, no need for the Avengers to be assembled. Steve figures that Loki just didn't have time to undo all his carefully crafted birthday plot in the span of a few hours.

No one dies.

There are 565 people alive today who might die of illness or car accidents or something else mundane, but the important thing is that they did not die because of Loki. It makes Steve feel good.

It's the memory of Loki's smile that makes him feel fantastic.


End file.
